Chasing Yesterday
by Solar Chosen
Summary: Found: Three boys, age 12. Unconscious, unharmed, unclaimed, and unidentified.  Lost: Everything.    Please R&R! Better than it sounds! Important AN inside!
1. Chapter 1

Ok, I'm sorry about not updating pain. You see, I'm having some behind-the-scenes issues with my cowriter so the story is currently on hiatus. On the other hand, I decided to write my own story while the mess clears up! Enjoy! And **review**! =)  
~_Dani_

**T**his time, there would be no escape.

The boys were close. He knew it. Even without the GPS-synced tracking devices planted on them, he would have known. He didn't need the insistent blinking light that locked down their coordinates, closer,closer, closer still. He could feel their presence. He didn't need the machines any more than he needed his henchmen, their cowardly hands gripping their tranquilizer guns, their eyes betraying their fear.

They were just boys, after all. Not even human. True, they all had power. But he had more. As dangerous as they were-and now lost,scared, out of control, and more dangerous then ever-he had no doubt that he could find them and capture them. This was more than pride; this was certainty. He knew the boys better than they knew themselves and he knew what they were capable of. He knew their weaknesses and how to use them. They were, after all, his creations and he was their master. Despite recent setbacks, that was still true. That would always be true.

Only a few days before, he had almost gotten past their defenses, almost drawn them back into the fold. Before he had done it on his own, without the trackers, without the men, without the guns, without the lies.

But before, there had been time.

Now time was running out.

There was no room for error. He would trap them before they had a chance to run, before they had a chance to fight.

Yes, his time was running out.

But so was theirs.

* * *

"We're in range, sir, "a voice in his headset reported. It was competent and level, just like a robot. And just as obedient. "Targets are less than five hundred yards away. The men are in position."

He smiled.

He had been called many names before but he liked it best when they called him sir. There was a note of respect in their voice and beneath it, always a tremble of fear. When the boys were still under his control, they referred to him as sir with voices as emotionless as robots. And they always obeyed.

'Almost always...' he reminded himself.

And the smile disappeared.

"Waiting for your signal," the voice said, snapping him back to reality. He stared out of the bulletproof tinted window of his SUV. They were under orders not to hurt the boys. If they had to, they were allowed to break a bone or give a black eye. But the boys were to be brought back intact. They were worth _nothing_ to him dead.

He was prepared, everything was in place-and he had already waited for too long.

"Go."

* * *

The sky glowed gray with the first light of dawn. A train rumbled on the street slept quiet and empty as the men in black swarmed, tranquilizer guns ready. They rounded the corner and advanced into an alley, movements stealth like and silent, weapons drawn, approaching from all sides. The prey was surrounded.

But the alley was empty.

"They've _got _to be here," one of them whispered, gesturing to the blinking light on his tracking monitor. These were the coordinates. The targets should be in place, cowering in fear against the dank brick wall.

Silence broke into chaos as the men tore through dumpsters, overturned garbage cans, and knocked down doors. They spread and searched as their emotions turned annoyed then mystified. Then desperate.

And finally, they found their answer.

The trackers had been placed in small sliver dog tags, threaded through chains, and fastened around the boys' necks. To all appearances, innocent gifts from a loving mother.

A loving mother last seen lying unconscious amid advancing flames.

Innocence betrayed.

Gifts left abandoned in the street.

A large gray rat nibbled at the thin silver chain, then clamped its teeth on one of the dog tags and dragged it into the darkness. On the trackers, a small blinking light drifted across the screen, following the rat as it scurried through the scattered trash. It ran out of the alley and down a sewer grate.

The men starred at one another. The good news: They wouldn't have to face the boys. The bad: They would have to face their boss.

"Sir...we have a problem," the one in charge reported into his headset.

"Have you secured the boys?"

He knew that telling the truth meant punishment, but lying meant worse. Lying meant _destruction._

"No."

* * *

'Impossible!' he thought.

Yet, it was true. They had escaped. They were out there somewhere, beyond his grasp. They were running; they were _winning_.

'This is all Vinnie's fault.' he told himself. She had failed him again. He wanted her to bring the boys in immediately after they had all been caught in the explosion. The moment they relocated them, hurt and confused in a local hospital. That was almost two weeks ago and he still had no idea what had gone wrong. The field tested perfectly-until the very end. And when the chaos cleared, the boys had lost their memories and he had lost his control. At least, the boys claimed to have no memory of what happened. He had no reason to trust them- but plenty of reasons to get them back to the institute before things got worse.

Yet, Vinnie had tried patience. Vinnie, the only one he had ever trusted and the only one he counted on to be more ruthless then he was, had shown _mercy_. Had become an optimist overnight. He wanted to cut his losses, terminate the old subjects, and create a new subject in place of the defective merchandise; Vinnie insisted on maintaining hope. She had concocted a plan, and persuaded him that the boys hadn't been damaged beyond repair. They could be retrained, reprogrammed, reclaimed-all in time to fulfill their purposes.

The ruthless Vinnie had put on a happy face, adopted a sweet maternal gaze, had hugged her '_sons_' and had made promises of love and protection to them all. She had lied. Lied and lied well. More important, she even fooled the boys. And even when progress was slow, she had unlimited patience. She had insisted that the projects could be saved. Right up to the end, she had truly believed that.

And what had she gotten for her faith?

Burned. Literally.

He had been angry when he learned of the fire, and even angrier when the men found Vinnie in the flames. When the final report came in, concluding that the boys were still alive-and on the run-his rage had bubbled to the surface. Now it threatened to boil over.

But he refused to reveal himself in front of his men. So he painted on a smile.

The door to the SUV opened, and the chief lieutenant climbed into the driver's side. He turned towards the backseat, his eyes aimed steadily over the doctor's left shoulder.

The doctor had noticed this: people preferred not to look him in the eye.

"What now, sir?" There was a nearly undectable tightness in the man's tone. A slight hesitation. "Should we start prepairing one of the others for-"

"No!" the doctor snapped. Vinnie had been right about one thing. He _needed_ the boys. They had always been his biggest successes. And if he could get them back, when he got them back, they would be punished and they would deliver.

"Everything will proceed according to plan. We can't afford to tip off our client about our..._slight detour_..."

"With all due respect, sir, this is more than a 'detour.' They could be _anywhere_. If we don't find them soon, or if they remember what they are or where they came from-"

"They won't remember," the doctor said firmly, leaning his head back against the smooth leather seat. He shut his eyes and forced his anger back down, sealing it with a layer of icy determination.

"They don't know anything that can hurt us-and they don't know how to protect themselves against us. We'll find them. It's a dangerous world out there for three innocent young boys," the doctor said, tapping his fingers against the glass. "Especially boys with their..._special _skills."

"Well, if you ask me, the world's a whole lot more dangerous with _them_ on the loose," the lieutenant replied. "Look at what they did to Vinnie."

"They can't hurt us," the doctor said quickly. He preferred not to think of Vinnie and the fire and how quickly everything had gone wrong. It raised to many disturbing questions. Had he underestimated the boys? Overestimated his power over them? Vinnie's maternal act had been honed to perfection and had proceeded perfectly. There had been no indication that everything was about to fall apart. On the contrary: Everything had been in place for them to return to the institute. What had went wrong?

"We'll get them back, all of them," he said, and there was no room for doubt in his voice. "They need us just as much as we need them. It's only a matter of time before they figure that out."

And they _would_ reveal themselves. Someone with their abilities couldn't stay hidden for long. They could run for now but in the end they had nowhere to go. Eventually, they would get tired and worn-out. They would have to give up; they would have to give in.

And when they did, he would be waiting.


	2. Chapter 2

Ok, I would like to say thanks for the reviews. But, did you know that our stories get some of the lowest amount of reviews in all of fanfic? It's true. For ex. I read a CSI story that had 1,032 reviews for FOUR chapters! Now why can't any chipmunk stories get that many reviews? Come on people! Every review counts (even if it's one word)! I know that we can start getting stories with some of the highest amount of reviews on fanfic if we try! I want the story with the most reviews EVER to be under Alvin and the chipmunk fanfics! We can do it! =)  
~_**Dani**_

_'**T**his has happened before_,' _Alvin thinks, and he knows what will happen next. But he can't stop it, can't stop himself. His mother lunges toward him, swinging a gun into position._

_'That's not my mother,' Alvin tells himself, and the words sound wrong, but he wants to believe them. A flame flickers atop his mother's torch; her face glows with reflected light._

_The gun is pointed at his brothers._

_Alvin reaches for his mother, the combination of fear and rage bubbling through his veins. Sweat gently rolls down his face and his eyes are fixed in a glare. Suddenly, he is no longer chipmunk, but a killing machine waiting to destroy. He smirks. The next thing series of events happen so fast that Alvin can only see blurs._

_His mother's finger moves to the trigger._

_His brothers scream._

_He feels a tingling heat spread across his body._

_His fingers move apart._

_Suddenly, there is a jolt, a surge of energy shooting through his body then out of his hands, and his mother flies through the air and into her house._

_And he is happy._

_He knew exactly what he was doing and what would happen, but he is happy._

_He turns and watches as his mother tumbles through the air, screaming and twisting her body. The screams only end when she hits the wooden walls of the small home. His anger fades to a simmer. He returns his arms to his side. His mother does not move._

_The flaming torch lands next to her. The fire burns and the flames spread, creeping closer and closer to the body._

_'The body of my mother,' he thinks but he knows that the female chipmunk is not-was not-his mother. He knows it is a dream because in real life he shrieked and cryed. In real life it was an accident. But now he is not confused, not terrified, not afraid. He is satisfied because the job is done. And it was no accident._

_He also knows that it was a dream because in real life, his mother had been knocked out cold on the forest floor. Now, her eyes were open. Alvin wants to look away but cannot. His mother's eyes are ice blue, iridescent. Just like the ones Alvin sees when he looks in a mirror. A trickle of blood runs down his mother's forehead. When she speaks, her voice is no louder than a whisper, each word gasped out like a last breath. But Alvin can hear everything._

_"You were never my sons," the woman rasps, and their eyes are locked together. "You are nothing."_

Alvin woke up, and felt a hand slap against his mouth in mid-scream. Still caught up in his dream, he lashed out. His arm thudded against his brother's chest. He held tight and after a moment of kicking and screaming, Alvin suddenly remembered where he was and who he was with. He relaxed.

The last ten days of his life had been like one long nightmare that he couldn't wake up from. And as for his life before that...it was a total blank. Ten days ago, Alvin and his brothers had opened their eyes to find themselves lying in a plie of rubble with no idea how they'd gotten there or who they were. All they wanted were answers and all they've gotten were lies. And a mother who tucked them in, hugged them tight...then tried to kill them.

_'But I killed her first,'_ Alvin reminded himself. He remembered facing the chipmunk in the dark forest, just like in his dream. He remembered the struggle, the hot mixture of anger and fear and betrayal. He remembered the gun flying out of the chipmunk's hand- and then the chipmunk herself, thrown off her feet, pushed into the house. Though the details were hazy, Alvin knew that he hadn't _touched _the chipmunk. And yet, somehow, he knew that he was responsible for her fall.

_'For her death,'_ he thought, finally accepting that the horrors of the night before might be real. That his mother was not his mother. He had no mother. None of them did. They were John does...and he was also a killer.

There hadn't been time last night to ask questions-they had been too busy running. They didn't know who was chasing them; they only knew that they had to get away.

They: Alvin and his brothers.

Simon and Theodore were the only ones that he could trust. The only things that made sence in all of this. His only friends, who stood by him, despite everything they had been through. The only other ones _like _him. The only other ones with telekinesis.

After they left the other chipmunk behind in the fire, they hopped a train into the city...desperate to get away. It was dark when they finally arrived , and they sought refuge in the train station with its hidden alcove and dark corners. Theodore had fallen asleep immediately, his knees curled up tight against his chest, his arms shielding his face. Simon stayed up a little longer, trying to comfort Alvin and convince him that he did what he did out of self-defence. But even he wasn't able to explain Alvin's mysterious powers or where they came from. He fell alseep in mid-conversation. Alvin, on the other hand, stayed up for hours just staring at his hands in disbelief.

_'She wasn't my mother,_' he told himself over and over again. He pressed his hand against his bare neck where his dogtags had hung. "A reminder of how much I love you," the chipmunk had said with her lying smile. And Alvin had been stupid enough to believe her.

The night before, he and his brothers had ripped them off their necks and tossed them out of the speeding train. But it still felt like it was still there, the metal chain cold against his skin, strangling him.

"It's starting to fill up," Simon said, pointing towards the station's main concourse. "We should get out of here, but first-" He jumped to his feet and brushed himself off. "I'll be right back." Alvin nodded and smiled weakly then pressed himself back into a corner, half-hidden from slight by a marble pillar.

_'Simon is coming right back,'_ he told himself and he turned towards Theodore. His baby brother was sound asleep, looking like an angel on a cloud. Alvin smiled. He_ hated _to have to wake him up. With a quick nudge of his foot though, he had Theodore up and yawning.

"Hi, Alvin!" he greeted and rubbed his eyes. "Where's Simon?" Alvin smiled a bit more. "He just left to get something. He'll be right back." Theodore nodded and turned towards the thousands of people pouring into the station. Suddenly, Simon was back with a small paper bag in his hand and a news paper under his arm. He pulled a bagel out of the bag and broke it into threes, giving his brothers larger pieces. "It's rock hard," he warned. "or they wouldn't have given it away but-"

"It's food," Theodore said, a mouthful around the stale but delicious bread. "Thanks Si!" Simon nodded and the three ate in silence.

"Also," Simon said after his bagel was finally gone, "I grabbed this out of the recycling bin." He handed Alvin the soggy, wrinkled newspaper, folded to an inside page. Alvin almost chocked on his bread when he saw the headline...

**500,000 Dollar Reward for the Return of Three Runaways**

* * *

Now remember what I said and...review!


	3. Chapter 3

**Note:** This is a AN.

Ok, how the heck have _**83**_ people read this story but only_** ELEVEN **_have reviewed? What do I have to do for more reviews? I already enabled (**allowed**) Anonymous Reviews, asked for more reviews, and updated faster so what's going on? Is the story bad? Is the title or summary bad? Am I a bad author? *sobs* What am I doing wrong? Should I even upload chapter 3? Or is it a waste of time? =(  
~An **dissressed **Dani


	4. Chapter 4

Aww, thanks for the encouragement guys! I just freaked when I realized that soooo many people were reading but I was getting sooooo little reviews. Anyways, here's chapter 3 and I'm hoping to get more reviews for this one even though it's pretty short. Enjoy!  
~ **Dani**

**500,000 Dollar Reward For the Return of Three Runaways**

**A**lvin suddenly felt queasy. His half-eaten bagel piece fell to the ground and his eyes became glued to the paper in front of him.

According to the article, the body of a female was recovered from a forest fire. Laura Smith, successful computer programmer, widow, single mother of three. The bodies of her sons, 12-year olds Damon, Ethan, and Michael Smith, were not reclaimed. Investigators assume that they escaped from the fire but got lost somewhere in the city. There were pictures of all of them at the top.

"The boy without a past."

That's what the doctors had called him the first moring he woke up after the explosion.

Other people referred to him as John Doe.

He had named himself Alvin, and that was the name that he stuck with. He was Alvin, despite his "mother's" lies, despite the doctor she had sent him to insisting that he called himself Damon, his 'real' name. Now he wondered about that doctor, Dr. Styron, and his real name. And his real agenda. His mother sent him to Dr. Styron because he was supposed to be helping him remember the past. Instead he had been tampering with his mind, training him to love and trust the woman who was not his mother. Dr. Styron was the answer to his problems. He just didn't know why.

_Longtime family friend Dr. Warren Styron calls the fire a terrible tragedy. "We were all so thankful to get Damon, Ethan, and Michael back safe and sound, and now for something like this to happen..." The psychiatrist choked up and had to take a break before continuing the interview._

_Investigators have yet to uncover an explanation for the explosion that took down three city blocks almost two weeks ago. Damon and his brothers, the only witnesses, suffered minor injuries but doctors say that they also exhibited a severe case of amnesia, remembering nothing before their rescue from the explosion site. For several days, their identities remained unknown. After a brief hospital stay, Damon and his brothers were claimed by their mother, Laura Smith._

_"Laura was overjoyed," Dr. Styron said. "And although Damon, Ethan, and Michael had no memory of their mother, the four of them obviously still shared a bond. There was love there, anyone could see it." Dr. Styron cited the terrifying days after the brothers went missing. "Laura couldn't help fearing the worst, but I told her that Damon and his brothers were strong, and they'd come back to us-and I still believe that. There's a chance that they are all still out there and if they are we'll find them. I love the boys so much that I'm offering a 500,000 dollar reward for their return. Please help."_

"Hey, it's going to be okay," Simon said softly, putting a hand over his shoulder. He thought that Alvin was crying. He thought that he was shaking in fear. But it wasn't _fear_-it was anger.

"There's a chance that they are all still out there," Dr. Styron, or whatever his real name was, had said. It was a message, a message for them. He knew that they had survived and he was going to find them.

"It doesn't matter," Alvin said, pushing his brother away. "We just got to get out of here."

"But where do we go?"

Alvin zoned out for a minute and squinted his eyes at three words at the bottom of the article. _"Police suspect arson."_

The article didn't contain the word 'murder'. That was only in Alvin's head.

"Um..." he said when he had snapped back to reality. "I don't care where we go." He stepped back into his dark corner. The train station was swarming with commuters, strange faces that stared blankly ahead, but any one of them could have been searching for them. They had to run. "If we stay here, they'll find us. I _know _it."

"Ok," Simon said and he signaled for Theodore to go ahead. Then he leaned his head closer to Alvin's head as they began to walk.

"Listen, I know you feel guilty," he said in a soft tone. "But it wasn't your fault. She was chasing us, she was going to _hurt_ us, and...it was just an accident."

"We could have gone back for her," Alvin said back in an even softer voice. "We could have pulled her out of the fire."

"There wasn't any time. There wasn't. And besides..."

"What?"

"Do you honestly think that she would have gone back for you?"

Alvin didn't respond. He was staring at the man, the one on the other side of the station dipping a wedge of donut into some coffee. He wore a light brown jacket and had a folded up newspaper under his arm. He couldn't have looked more normal. Except he was _watching_ them.

Alvin knew that he was being paranoid but he had learned to trust his instincts.

Alvin caught the man's eye, expecting him to turn away, but instead he smiled at Alvin and began to walk towards him. His steps were slow at first, almost casual, until Alvin grabbed both of his brothers' arms and began to run with them. Then the man began to run too, pushing though the crowd of commuters, heading _straight _for them.

"Hurry!" Alvin hissed as he literally dragged his brothers down the corridor and into a stairwell.

"What? What's going on?"

"We're being followed!" Alvin yelled. He risked a glance over Simon's shoulder and for a second, he thought that they were safe when he didn't see the man.

Then the man's face suddenly reappeared through the crowd and he was closer than before.

Alvin ran.


	5. Chapter 5

Ok, I know that the last chapter was short so this one is action-packed and extra-long to make up for it. Read and review! Enjoy!  
~A _tired_ Dani

"**W**atch out!" A woman shouted as Alvin hurtled past. An armful of packages flew into the air but Alvin kept running, pushing though a crowd of shoulders and elbows with his heart pounding as he raced down the hall and searched for an exit. The train station was massive and the red-chad chipmunk had a hard time finding his way around. He ran by gate after gate, skidded behind a coffee vendor, and ducked behind a magazine stand as a security guard bustled towards him. His brothers, who had been following him the whole time, crouched by his side.

"What are we doing?" Simon hissed, completely out of breath. Alvin pressed a finger to Simon's lips. The guard spotted them.

"You kids get back here!"

"We're running," Alvin gasped then took off again, pulling Simon and Theodore along after him. He didn't know if the other man was still following them but he couldn't risk waiting to find out.

Finally, he caught sight of a red exit sign and pushed the door open before he read the other sign that said: **Emergency Exit Only:** Warning, alarm will sound. The noice was loud and ear-piercing but Alvin ignored it. It didn't matter.

As soon as they had reached the outside world, Simon took the lead and ran towards the right, then made a sharp turn down a broad avenue filled with cars and people and noice. Alvin and Theodore followed, quickly losing any sence of direction as he wound them around corner after corner, darted across streets, and zigzagged around clumps of people clogging the sidewalks.

Alvin ran with his head down, trusting his brothers to lead the way, so he didn't look up when they raced across the street against the light. He didn't see a taxi barreling towards him. Someone screamed, brakes squealed, and then, only then, did he finally look up.

A blur of yellow filled his field of vision, coming towards him, brakes screeching...and then a blue-chad chipmunk's arm reached out and yanked him out of harm's way. The bumper grazed the shirt Alvin was wearing as the car tore though the intersection. For a moment, he didn't understand why he and his brother were on the ground or why they had blood on them. Simon was still holding on, his face pale, his hands shaking, and his grip so tight that it hurt. Theodore bent over with both hands on his knees, staring at his brothers in shock.

Alvin touched his hand to his left side, where the car had brushed against him. If Simon had been a _second _slower, if the car had swerved in the other direction...

"You guys ok?" Theodore asked with wide eyes while still trying to caught his breath.

Simon nodded. "Yeah, I'm alright. Still a bit shocked but alright. Alvin?"

_'Don't think about it,'_ Alvin told himself. _'Don't think about what could have happened if Simon wasn't there. Not now. Not in front of Theodore.' _He got up and brushed himself off then painted on a smile.

"I'm fine." He reached for Simon's hand with his left and pulled him up as well. "I'm just fine." Theodore nodded but Simon looked like he didn't believe him. So Alvin turned away. He scoured the faces clustering around them. The man who had been chasing them was gone. "I think we're safe," he whispered, but there were too many people staring at them and murmuring. How long would it be before someone called the cops about the poor chipmunk who almost got turned into roadkill? Or before someone recognized them from the papers? Even if they could get away, if they kept running how long could it last? It was only a matter of time before someone caught them and dragged them back to Dr. Styron. Then what?

"Things are going to get bad," he suddenly said outloud. "There's only a matter of time before-"

But that was the problem. Before what? He didn't know, he didn't remember. But it felt like behind a thick cloud of fog lay the answer. Some part of him deep down inside knew why they were being chased, knew what they wanted from them, and knew _exactly_ what would happen if they got caught.

And that part was terrified.

"Things are already bad, Alvin. What are you talking about?" Simon suddenly pointed out.

"Worse," Alvin said. "It's going to get worse."

Simon frowned. "It always does." He said. Then his eyes darted across the street the a sign that said 'Library' and a slight smile played across his face.

"Come on."

"Come on what?" Simon grabbed his brothers hands.

"Come on with me to get some answers," he said. "Then we'll see how they like it when we chase them."

* * *

Their hunt began in the basement of the public library, where a few ancient computers were available for public use. Simon sat perched over the edge of his chair, his finger hovering over the mouse, his muscles clenching as he clicked though to each Google entry for Dr. Warren Styron. Alvin and Theodore hovered behind him holding their breath with each link, as they waited for the page to open. The connection was painfully slow, but Simon forced himself to wait and forced himself to hope.

Finally, after they had clicked though more than fifty useless results, he was forced to admit that Styron was a dead end.

There was a Warren Styron who practiced orthopedic surgery in Los Angeles.

A Warren Styron who died in 1953 from injuries suffered in a car collision.

A Warren Styron, MD, whose revolutionary cure for male baldness could be yours for only $49.99 plus shipping and handling (What? I had to put a joke somewhere in here! =D )

But none of the Warren Styrons was a psychiatrist specialing in hypnotherapy; none of them lived on the right coast of had the right photo. None of them was_ their _Warren Styron.

"This idea of yours isn't going anywhere," Alvin finally whispered, rubbing his eyes. Most of the bulbs in the basement had burned out and the old screens were so dim and dusty that they all had to squint. "Maybe you should try pulling up articles about the explosion. Or photos. We still don't know why we were there in the first place, right? There has to be some kind of clue, evidence, or something."

"Good idea," Simon said. But he had his own idea and he didn't want Alvin to know what he was thinking. Not yet. "This is stupid, using just one computer. Divide and conquer?"

* * *

Once his brothers were gone, Simon turned back to the keyboard, and feeling a little silly, entered in a new set of search terms.

_Mind control_

_Brainwashing_

_Moving things with your mind_

_Powers_

_Memory loss_

There were plenty of results. Thousands of them. From wackjob conspiracy theorists posting about massive government mind control schemes to New age healers preaching about unlocking the hidden powers of the mind. The sites were weird, unsettling, laughable, and almost entirely useless.

_Almost_ but not quite.

He clicked opened an article titled "Research suggests genetic predisposition for telekinesis" and sucked in a breath as he read about the work of a geneticist named Ansel Sykes. He claimed that certain genetic sequences could produce unusual "parapsychologist" abilities-specifically, telekinesis, the ability to move things with the mind. Some years earlier, Sykes had presented his work at a national genetics conference. He had been laughed off the stage.

The article was more than a decade old so Simon searched for something newer, but the conference had apparently been Ansel Sykes's last public appearance. After his humiliating lecture, he disappeared.

And then he found it, a small blurb in the city paper from almost eight years ago, noting that a local geneticist had been awarded a grant from a German company named LysenCorp. The grant was for more than five-million dollars, the research was confidential and no one seemed to know what the company did.

Simon scrolled down, hungry for more, and gasped. There was a picture accompanying the article, a headshot of a young geneticist. The caption read 'Ansel Sykes'. He stared at the photo. Even without the grainy black-and-white photo, even with the face that was eight years younger than the one he knew, he was sure. It was him. .

'Ansel Sykes,' he thought, saying the name over and over again in his mind. He knew the name of his enemy.

Ten years ago, Ansel Sykes had talked about screening the population, finding those rare individuals whose genes gave them special abilities. He had talked about seeking the key to the brain's hidden powers.

What if he _had_ found it?

What if he had found _them_?

"Alvin, Theodore," he called out in a strangled voice, forgetting to whisper. "I think I found something..."

"What?"

By the time they came over, Simon had clicked open another site. The lysenCorp home page. It was bland, with nothing on it except a short paragraph about 'seeking future growth', but it was enough.

Suddenly Simon couldn't speak. Simon couldn't breathe. He leaned towards the screen and pressed his fingers against the company's black icon.

"You found something?" Alvin said, like it was the most shocking news in the world. He leaned down over Simon's shoulder to see what he had found then suddenly leaned back up and gasped. "Unbelievable!"

He grazed the back of Simon's neck, pausing at the spot where his shoulder blades met. Simon knew what he was staring at. The tiny black tattoo, the one that they all had and had no memory of getting...

They had been marked with the LysenCorp Logo. _'No, that's not the right way to put it,'_ he thought as he pressed his fingers against the logo on the screen.

They had been _branded_.

* * *

"What are you kids doing down here?" an Angry voice yelled from the doorway. "Shouldn't you be in school?" The chipmunks all turned slowly and saw a woman in her fifties, with brown hair that fell limply across her shoulders and pursed lips.

"We're here for a um... a school project, ma'am," Simon said quickly, reaching across Alvin to shut down his browser.

"We have special permission."

The librarian nodded. She was just about to turn back around when she suddenly stopped and narrowed her eyes. "I've seen you before..." she said, her eyes staring all of the chipmunks down. "I know you." Alvin shook his head, wishing that he could hide behind his hat. "We're done with our research so..." Simon said while standing up. Alvin and Theodore jumped up beside him. "So um, we should probably just..."

They inched towards the door.

The woman blocked their path. "It's you."

"Listen, we really have to go," Simon said urgently and Alvin nodded again and tried to squeeze past the librarian. A clammy hand came down on his arm.

"You're the boys from the paper!" the librarian said excitedly. Alvin tryed to rip his arm away but the woman held tight.

"Let go of me!"

The woman laughed mirthlessly and then quickly grabbed both Simon's and Theodore's wrists with her other hand. "Oh, no." she said. "You three are coming with me." A wave of panic and fear washed over all of the chipmunks but this time it was Simon who felt anger bubble up inside of him. He also felt a rush of power and an urge to seize control.

The librarian's grip tightened as she dragged the boys up the stairs and across the front hall to the security desk. Simon flexed his fingers...preparing for...something. His red-chad brother noticed.

_His mother flew through the air, tumbling head over heels, until the thud._

_The body lay bloody and still._

Alvin's eyes widened.

The librarian walked up to a bored looking guard who was reading a comic book. Simon raised his arm.

"Hey Steve! You're never going to believe who I found!"

"Who?"

Alvin was to first one to see it. The desk wobbling and rocking as if about to tip over. Simon was glaring at it and his arm was pointing towards it. He had the same look on his face that Alvin had when he killed his mother.

_'He's going to tip it over,' _Alvin thought in a panic._ 'He's going to kill them, he going to be a murderer like me.'_

"Simon, no!"

It was too late. The desk was lifted about 4 feet in the air and it flew into the librarian and the guard, knocking them both off of their feet, and swishing them into the wall on the far end of the library. It was as if a giant hand had lifted them up and threw them. They didn't move.

Simon's eyes went from hate-filled and angry to scared and confused. He hesitated for a minute, out of shock, then raced for the front exit. He pushed trough the heavy, brass door. He raced down the stairs, towards the end the block. Then he raced around the corner and stopped to take a deep breath. The air was bitter and tasted of smog, but he didn't care.

When Alvin and Theodore caught up to him, he was sitting beside an abandoned buliding with his knees pulled up to his chest and his face buried in his them. He rubbed his fingers across his tattoo. He wished that he had had time to read more about LysenCorp and Ansel Sykes. Now that the librarian knew where they where, it was only a matter of time before word spread. The police would be looking for them, and they wouldn't be the only ones. They were going to have to be a lot more careful. They were going to have to be invisible.

Simon remembered the small article he did have a chance to read about Ansel Sykes and he wondered that if Sykes had been training them to use the strange powers in their minds, what were they supposed to be using them for?

There was also this dream that he had been having since the explosion-was it a hallucination? A memory? A vision, all too vivid and real of standing in a field and raising his hands to the sky as a helicopter whirled by. He remembered the propeller snapping, the crash, the fire. He remembered choking on the smoke. He remembered Ansel Sykes by his side, congratulating him on a job well done.

Plus, today, he had lost control and sent a desk hurling at two people. Just like when his brother had killed their mother.

They _were _dangerous. And for the first time, it occurred to him that maybe Sykes wasn't the bad guy. Maybe their 'mother' wasn't either. Maybe they had been trying to keep people safe-safe from them.

Maybe they were the real enemy.

Maybe they should have let their 'mother' and Sykes stop them.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey guys! I'm back! Sorry it took me so long to update but I was sooooooooooo busy! Anyways, enjoy!**  
**~Dani**

"Bu-but, that's _crazy_!" Simon exclaimed.

Alvin flinched. Crazy was a word that he didn't like too much. Not after spending so many sleepless nights wondering if he was losing his mind and if he was a crazed murder. And Simon _knew_ it.

"I don't mean you're crazy," he said quickly after seeing the look on Alvin's face. "I mean you just can't be right about all of this. Not possible."

They were sitting in a movie theater lobby which, according to Simon, was one of the best places to escape the cold without spending any money. A few feet away, a huge poster read "An Adventure You'll NEVER Forget!" The woman on the poster was dangling from a bridge, one hand on the metal railing, the other flailing wildly. She was smiling.

And she could afford to smile. It was a movie , which meant that her fingers wouldn't slip. She wouldn't fall to her death. She wouldn't break her neck or drown even if she did fall. It was a movie, which meant that she would get her happy ending.

"First of all, we're not dangerous," Simon continued. "And who ever is following us, they're not the good guys. _We are._ Second of all, we can't move things with our minds. No one can."

"If we can't move things with our minds, explain to me how you managed to lift a 20 pound desk and hurl it at two people without touching it," Alvin countered. Simon's eyes widened and he suddenly just stared at his feet. For this he had no answer.

"Exactly," Alvin said. "And what about our mom? I didn't touch her and you _know_ I didn't. _You were there_."

Simon sighed and his gaze focused on Alvin again.

"Yes, I _was_ there, and I promise you...whatever happened wasn't your fault. I know you feel guilty about it but you really have to let it go."

"It's not just guilt..." Alvin whispered. He needed Simon to understand. "I know this might sound...well, dumb...but uh, I can feel it inside of me, this strange power...and...it fits all of these nightmares or visions or whatever they are. Something's not normal...about us. I mean, why else would want us? What else could make us so valuable to him?"

Simon jerked his head toward a nearby concession stand where a giant neon sigh taunted them with promises of candy bars and popcorn. "I say we just save this arguement for later and move on to something more important," he suggested. Alvin felt confused and he frowned.

"Like what?"

Simon looked over at Theodore who was playing with an ant and a stick, then he looked at Alvin's stomach which rumbled right on cue. He smirked.

"Dinner."

* * *

"Excuse me sir, but there's a boy in the bathroom who seems really sick," Theodore told the guy behind the concession stand. He tryed to look sweet, innocent, young, and clueless, just as Alvin and Simon had advised. It was pretty easy.

The older boy, who was just examining his zits in the reflection of a soda machine looked bored.

"He's throwing up everywhere and he's, like, really weak and pale. Can you help him?"

The older boy rolled his eyes and sighed loudly. "Like I'm a doctor or something," he muttered but he came from behind the stand and followed Theodore to the bathroom. "I'm not cleaning up some kid's puke," he said, holding his breath as the door swung open.

The bathroom was empty.

"Oh, I don't know where he went." Theodore tryed to sound shocked and apologetic. He opened his eyes wide and scratched the side of his head. "Maybe he got better?"

"Whatever." The older boy rolled his eyes again and instead of leaving the bathroom, went over to the mirror and started to squeeze one of the zits. Theodore just stood in the doorway and watched. From where he was standing, he could see his own reflection in the mirror and from his point of view, it was the opposite of good: filthy and disgusting. He tried to picture himself in front of a mirror, popping zits and brushing his hair, clean and presentable. He couldn't.

"What?" the boy snapped without taking his eyes off the mirror. "You got an eye problem or somethin'?"

Theodore shook his head silently and then backed away. As planned, he left the bathroom and hurried up the block and around the corner. Alvin and Simon were supposed to be waiting there for him, but they weren't. So he waited, feeling a bit queasy.

Suddenly, a voice called out his name and he looked up just in time to see both Alvin and Simon rounding the corner. "Dinner is served, teddy!" Alvin yelled, tossing him a candy bar as he got closer. He caught it on reflex and instantly relaxed. They had gotten away with it. He looked down at the chocolate in his hands and hunger knocked all other thoughts out of his head. He tore open the wrapper and crammed the candy into his mouth, moaning in pleasure as something finally started to fill him up. For several long minutes, they just stuffed their faces in silence.

"Told you this would work, Alvin..." Simon muttered around a mouthful of Reese's peanut butter cup. "And it went even better then I thought." He reached into his pocket and pulled out something green, then opened his hand to reveal a small pile of bills.

Alvin felt like all of the food in his stomach was going to rush back up to his throat. "Wher...Where did you get that?"

"Where do you think?"

Alvin grabbed the money out of Simon's hands. "I thought we were just going to take food," he said angrily. "Because we needed it. I don't steal."

"No, I said we were going to steal food because we needed it, "Simon said with his voice rising. "So yeah, we stole. And we need this too."

" But you said that we were just going to grab something to eat, not steal money. We can't go around stealing from people, just because we can. Even if we need t-"

"Well, you got a better idea, Alvin? Some secret bank account I don't know about? A job? No, I didn't think so. So what were you planing to do to get food?"

"I...I don't know."

"That's right, you don't know everything Alvin," he said, snatching the money back from him and stuffing it in his pocket.  
Alvin just leaned against the storefront and tipped his head back. He closed his eyes.

"Well, what's your plan Simon? We just keep running and keep stealing, telling ourselves that we're only doing what's necessary? What's next? We can't just do this forever. We'll get caught," he whispered and Simon started to regret yelling at him. He leaned next to him.

"Listen, it won't be like this forever," he said, his voice softer. "We just need some time to figure things out. And figure them out we will. No one will catch us." He paused. "And I only took a few dollars, just enough for more food tomorrow. But if you want, we could go back and leave the money in the lobby. I don't know if it's safe to go back there now because they might be looking for us but...if it matters that much to you..."

Alvin opened his eyes.

Simon was hunched over against the cold, his head tucked into his chest, his eyes fixed on the pavement. Alvin hated feeling this way, extremely emotional due to his mother's murder at his own hands and totally clueless about how to survive and what to do next. He didn't like following behind Simon, letting him tell him and Theodore what to do and how to do it. He was too strong for that, too proud.

But...in the end, Simon knew what he was talking about. And proud or not, the smart thing to do was to listen.

"No...I guess you're right..." he said. "I think we should get going..." He rose to his feet and shuttered at the sudden loss of body heat. "But not until _you_ think it's safe..."

Simon playfully raised his eyebrows. "Since when do you accept me being in charge?"

Alvin laughed. "Since never, but it's not about being in charge, it's about _surviving._ Obviously you are the smartest of us three so if you say we need to do something...I trust you." Simon smiled.

"Well, uh...I say we should find somewhere to camp for tonight. It's getting pretty dark...hey, wait a minute..."

Alvin frowned.

"What?"

"Did you ever notice how quiet Theodore has been this whole conversation?"

Alvin was quiet. He actually hadn't noticed. Now that he thought about it though...

"Yeah..."

Slowly both brothers turned around, and saw that Theodore had curled up into a small ball on the ground and fallen asleep, chocolate all around his mouth. And...

"He ate all of the food!" Alvin exclaimed. Simon laughed at him. "I'll go wake him up." he said. "Then we can began our house hunt." Alvin moaned. He didn't want to be here, shivering in the cold. "Uh, Simon...are you sure we can't jus-"

"Shh...you have to trust me..." And Alvin quieted and shoved his hands in his pocket. _'I do trust you.'_ he wanted to say. _'Right now I trust you more than I trust myself.'_


End file.
